


to what do i owe.

by Quinton_Hawk



Series: Quin's Cinderella Phenomenon addiction [4]
Category: Cinderella Phenomenon (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst with a Bad Ending, Broken Hearts, F/M, Fritz Deserved Better, L-Bomb, Love Confessions, Lucette and Varg Deserved Better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:07:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22742242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quinton_Hawk/pseuds/Quinton_Hawk
Summary: “I know who you’ll choose,” he says solemnly.There’s a sense of finality in his tone, and the bitter truth leaves a bad taste in his mouth even after the echo of his words in the silent street is long gone.
Relationships: Fritz/Lucette, Lucette Riella Britton/Fritzgerald Aiden Leverton, Lucette Riella Britton/Varg, Varg/Lucette
Series: Quin's Cinderella Phenomenon addiction [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1610977
Comments: 1
Kudos: 27





	to what do i owe.

“…I can’t do this right now.”

“…”

She looks up from the ground at him, and he meets her gaze unwaveringly. There’s this kind of reservation in his eyes that she can’t quite understand. He grins without humor, and the sharp upturn of his lips seems dangerous; like it hides teeth that are too sharp.

He uses those sharp teeth to bite his own tongue to stop everything he shouldn’t say from passing his lips, and drowns out the lingering taste of her kiss that he can’t seem to get out of his mind with the taste of blood.

Some sick, depraved side of him would rather that blood be hers. Though, he really doesn’t have a sick side, does he? He _is_ the sick side. He’s the one that gets all the questions when his other half is far more questionable.

But no one sees that. Especially not her. How could she not see that Fritz was the one who was keeping secrets? Varg was the one telling her the truth. He was the one standing in front of her tonight when Fritz was too weak to show his face.

And still he takes the blame, because that’s the only thing she gives.

It wasn’t fair. ‘Right now’ is the only time they _could_ do this; his time is running out.

But it wasn’t his decision to make this time.

“I know.”

…

There’s a look in her eyes he can’t quite pinpoint, though he’s pretty sure he can never tell. Could be pity, could be pain. Pity and pain over someone that wasn’t here, or someone who was always here, there was no telling anymore. The lines got more blurred each day, or perhaps they got more noticeable and they just chose to ignore it.

A gust of wind blows by them both in the silence, and the cold begins to creep in. He didn’t mind the cold; there was already a chill in his chest that he couldn’t rid himself of, so he was used to it by now.

When he walks closer, and then closer still, she doesn’t run. Her expression doesn’t change as he stands close – too close – and looks straight into her golden eyes.

There is nothing predatory in his contemplation as he takes in the curves of her face. One day he would never see it again. One day, sooner rather than later, he believed.

He’s so close to her, but his distant expression tells Lucette that he’s far enough away that she couldn’t reach him if she tried. Even though she’s standing right there, he’s looking at her as if she’s walking away from him. He’s looking at her like he wishes she’d stay for just a second longer so that he could finally say the words that he failed to choke out before.

“…I know,” he says, barely above a whisper. “You never will.”

It wasn’t bitter, it wasn’t angry, it wasn’t cruel. It was an exposure to the reality.

“You can’t. Not while he’s here.” His breath fogs in the cold air along with Lucette’s own.

He reaches up and pulls down his mask. He moves in slow deliberate movements until the mask falls from his face and down onto what little ground is left between them.

Maybe she will look at him and won’t see the shadow of someone else crossing his face as she had many days before. It was a fragile hope, but he would prefer to delude himself for what time he had left.

Something about him looks different than before.

It’s in the look of heartache in his eyes. It’s in the way his features are so sharply cut by the moonlight. It’s in the way he’s looking at her like she’s his whole world that he’s just been denied.

Somehow, he doesn’t look like Fritz at all.

The grin is long replaced by a soft, wistful frown that hides away the razor-sharp fangs behind it. He slowly reaches up a hand and hesitates, giving Lucette time to brush it away, before gently brushing it over her cheek. The touch is far too soft to be claws scraping against her skin.

Her skin tingles where he touches, and despite the cold and the fact that he’s taken off his gloves, his hand is warm. He brushes a wayward strand of hair that was disturbed by the wind behind her ear, and starts to pull away before pausing.

He takes his time to caress her cheek and trace her jawline with feather-light touches. Pausing for but a moment when his thumb brushes across the corner of her lips, he finally lets his hand fall back down to his side.

Lucette could feel the longing and ache in his touch, and somehow feels colder when he pulls away.

She shivers, but she can’t tell if it’s from the cold anymore.

Varg takes notice of it and unclips his cloak. He steps closer, pulling the cloak over her shoulders and clasping it in place. While he does so, Lucette can’t seem to look away. Something was different about him. Perhaps she’s a fool, but she would like to believe that the blood on the wolf’s teeth has dried tonight.

She _knows_ she is a fool, for the wolf’s fangs will draw more when his leash is pulled.

He looks back up to meet her gaze, only an inch away.

“I know who you’ll choose,” he says solemnly. There’s a sense of finality in his tone, and the bitter truth leaves a bad taste in his mouth even after the echo of his words in the silent street is long gone.

He knows who she’ll be walking home with when the sun rises, and until then, all he can do is give her what little he has to give her before his time runs out. All he asks is one last dance before the clock strikes twelve.

“…It will be midnight soon, Cinderella…”

He takes one of her hands in his and brings it up to cup his cheek.

“…But until then, you’re still Little Red. And until then, I’m here to stay.”

When she moves her hand, he lets it go, expecting her to pull away. Instead of leaving or telling him to go, she brushes her fingers across his skin, burying the tips of them in his raven hair. She’s taking a risk, holding her hand out to tangle in the fur of the wolf, but maybe the fairytale doesn’t have to end the same way this time.

He lets his eyes close as he nuzzles into her hand. It’s chilled by the cold, but he doesn’t mind. His nose brushes against her palm and Lucette can feel his warm breath on her wrist.

“Until then, I’m yours.” He murmurs, barely loud enough to be heard.

“What if I don’t want you to go?” She asks, her voice wavering slightly.

He smiles mirthlessly and lets out a low chuckle as his eyes open slightly.

“Even if you don’t want me to go, you don’t need me to stay.” He brings his hand up to rest over hers and holds on lightly. Lucette feels hot tears in the corners of her eyes and wishes he’d hold on tighter like he normally would.

He would hold on too tight and wouldn’t let her leave. He would follow her and push her against the wall and would say that he was better than Fritz, that Lucette need _him_ , that he wasn’t leaving that he—

…Why doesn’t this feel like the same person?

“What if I do?” Her voice cracks slightly and she feels a tear stream down her face, the warmth of it fading as it falls. She can’t tell why she’s crying, but she knows she wants to stop this all before it starts. She knows that once it starts, it’s the end for everything.

_Don’t leave me._

_I’m not ready to let go._

Varg reaches up and brushes the tear away. She doesn’t need to cry anymore… He won’t be around for much longer. He hopes that Fritz can keep her from crying again.

He wished she knew everything he felt, maybe then she would know that she was everything to him. She was the air that he breathed and his only meaning. He longed to make her realize that if she chose him, he could be everything she wanted.

Except he couldn’t. Because what she wanted wasn’t him.

He knew he could turn all of these warped and depraved sides of himself from a weapon into a shield, but that wouldn’t be enough. It was too little, and far too late.

Even if she doesn’t realize it yet, she’s made up her mind.

“You don’t love me, Princess.”

He pulls her hand away from his face and steps away from her.

“…You never will.”


End file.
